Newsletter #23

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Why Culture Deepens the Practice of Taijiquan and Qigong

Many people in the West discover Taijiquan and Qigong as relaxing ways to reduce stress or improve balance. Yet these practices become far more meaningful when we understand the culture that shaped them. Every movement, pause, and breath in these arts is rooted in Chinese philosophy—a living expression of how mind and body relate to nature.

Daoism teaches harmony with the flow of qi (氣), the vital energy that connects all things. It reminds us that strength comes from softness and that movement should be natural, not forced. Confucianism emphasizes refinement and moral integrity, showing that inner balance and respect for others are part of true mastery. Buddhism adds mindfulness and compassion, encouraging quiet awareness and release of tension through a calm, observant mind.

Together, these traditions turn Taijiquan and Qigong into paths of self-cultivation. When practitioners learn about the culture behind them, practice shifts from repetition of form to personal discovery. Movements begin to express values of balance, humility, and connection—the same qualities that shaped Chinese civilization itself.

To study these arts without their cultural roots is to read only the surface of a poem. Understanding the philosophy behind them opens the full meaning of the words—and of the movement itself.

Knowing the Impossible—and Doing It Anyway

Confucius once said, Zhī qí bù kě ér wéi zhī (知其不可而为之): "To know something cannot be done, and yet to do it." It's a phrase that cuts to the heart of moral courage. In a time when success is often measured by results, Confucius challenges us to act for the sake of what is right, even when the outcome is destined to fail.

To live by this ideal means standing firm when compromise would be easier. It means speaking truth when silence would protect us. It means striving for goodness even when the world seems indifferent or hostile to it. The action itself—performed with integrity and awareness—is what gives life its depth. As Confucius saw it, virtue is not proven by triumph but by persistence in the face of futility.

This saying also invites a question: how do we know when an effort is truly impossible, and when it only appears so? Many of the greatest transformations in history began as acts that others called hopeless. To follow this teaching is not to be reckless, but to act from principle rather than fear, with a heart that refuses to yield to cynicism.

In our uncertain times, Confucius's challenge remains unsettling—and deeply relevant. What "impossible" thing is calling to you, quietly demanding to be done, even if the world says it can't be?

Mindfulness and Tai Chi/Qigong Both Lift Mood in Cancer Survivors

A groundbreaking Canadian study has found that both Mindfulness-Based Cancer Recovery (MBCR) and Tai Chi/Qigong (TCQ) significantly improve mood and emotional well-being among cancer survivors—no matter which approach participants chose. The MATCH study (Mindfulness and Tai Chi for Cancer Health), published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology (June 2025), represents one of the largest and most carefully designed trials of its kind.

Conducted between 2017 and 2020 at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre in Calgary and Princess Margaret Cancer Centre in Toronto, the trial enrolled 587 adults experiencing moderate to severe psychological distress after cancer treatment. Participants could express a preference for either MBCR or TCQ—or agree to be randomly assigned. They were then further randomized to begin immediately or join a short waitlist control group.

Results were striking. Those who began either program right away reported major improvements on the Profile of Mood States (POMS) scale—showing reduced tension, depression, anger, fatigue, and confusion, and increased vigor. Interestingly, these benefits appeared regardless of personal preference: patients who received their chosen therapy did no better than those who did not.

While both methods were effective, subtle distinctions emerged. MBCR—combining meditation, gentle yoga, and cognitive strategies—was especially powerful in reducing anxiety and tension, particularly among women. TCQ—rooted in traditional Chinese rhythmic movement and breath control—excelled at easing anger and depression, with notable results for younger adults and those with advanced-stage cancer.

The takeaway is clear: mind–body practices such as Tai Chi, Qigong, and mindfulness are not just complementary—they are clinically validated tools for emotional recovery. The MATCH study's findings support the growing integration of these ancient and modern healing arts in survivorship care, offering hope and balance to those rebuilding life after cancer.

Qi Journal Updates:

We will be receiving our Winter 2025-26 issue from our printer soon and many subscribers will receive their renewal emails. This will be our 140th issue since 1991 and we feel honored to have so many long-time supporters.

Your readership helps us sustain the quality, authenticity, and independence of the publication we've shared for more than three decades. If you are not a current subscriber, please consider purchasing a subscription at www.qi-journal.com/subscriptions.

Features in this issue include:

·         "Embodied Sciences of the Ancients" by Roger Jahnke

·         "Teachings on Enlightenment: The Ancient Lingbao Daoists" by Prof. Jerry Alan Johnson

·         "The Secret of Force" by Dr. David Clippinger

·         "Eight Characters of Destiny" by Lisa A. Lee

Plus these Departments:

·         "Event & Association News"

·         "Riding the Fire Horse" by Chin T. Wang

·         "When Spring Comes in the Dead of Winter" by Steven Luo

·         "Tai Chi at the Polasek Sculpture Gardens" by Bill Burnette

·         "Feeling Qi in Zhànzhuang" by Luo Shiwen

·         "Wu Yuxiang Family Small Frame Set" by Master Sun Jianguo with LeRoy Clark

·         "Baguazhang: Walking the Circle, Turning the Mind" by Allen Woodward

·         "Winter Stillness and Return of Yang: Lessons from Nature" by Margaret Lewis

·         "Yìjing (I-Ching) Reading for 2026 " by Nori Muster

·         "The Many Faces of Immortality" by Dr. Robert Hayes

·         "Cultivating the Sea of Marrow" by Dr. Li Wen Jiang

Website Updates: As mentioned in our last newsletter, we have released our interactive Weiqi (Go) Simulator on our website at qi-journal.com/weiqi and we hope you will enjoy learning more about that classic Chinese game. A tip: go through the "Quick Start Guide" to get familiar with some of the terms, and then go to the settings menu and turn on the computer opponent—set it to "beginner level" to start.

Sōng: The Quiet Strength of Internal Practice

In every internal discipline, whether qigong, Taijiquan, Baguazhang, or even non-Chinese systems like yoga, the term sōng (鬆) appears again and again. It is often translated as "relax," but anyone who has practiced for more than a few weeks knows that sōng means something deeper than simply going limp. It describes a state in which the body releases unnecessary tension while maintaining structural integrity. It is relaxation with intent.

When tension rises in the body, our sensitivity drops. This is true in martial training, meditation, and daily life. Tight muscles create internal noise that overwhelms the subtler signals—breath, alignment, shifting weight, changes in a partner's force, or the quiet pulse of the lower abdomen. Sōng allows these signals to reappear. It helps the practitioner "listen" not only with the ears but with the whole body.

Many teachers describe sōng as sinking: the shoulders soften, the chest settles, the breath drops toward the dantian, and the weight distributes through the legs into the ground. At the same time, the spine lengthens upward, creating a gentle stretch through the crown of the head. You are neither collapsed nor stiff. Instead, the body aligns as a single unit, supported by gravity rather than fighting it.

This quality of sōng has practical effects. Movements become smoother, balance improves, and power transfers through the body without blockage. In martial terms, sōng is what lets force travel from the feet, through the legs and waist, and out through the hands. In health practices, it encourages better circulation and calms the nervous system.

To practice sōng is to practice letting go—just enough. It is the art of releasing what is unnecessary so that what is essential can arise. In time, sōng becomes not only a physical state but a way of moving through the world with clarity, ease, and quiet strength.

Settling the Spirit: Restoring Inner Warmth in Early Winter

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, November marks the true beginning of winter—a time when yīn energy deepens and life turns inward. The rush of autumn activity subsides, and nature enters quiet restoration. For humans, this is a call to do the same. The season now asks us to conserve energy, protect warmth, and nourish the roots of vitality that will sustain us through the cold months ahead.

Winter corresponds to the Kidneys, the body's energetic "storehouse." They govern our essence (jīng, 精), regulate growth and longevity, and influence our courage and willpower. When Kidney energy is strong, the spirit feels grounded and calm. When depleted, we may experience fatigue, fear, or restlessness—signs that the body and mind are out of sync with the season's rhythm.

To restore inner warmth, slow the pace of daily life. Choose foods that gently warm without overstimulating: black beans, walnuts, sesame seeds, chestnuts, and hearty soups flavored with ginger or a touch of cinnamon. Allow more time for sleep; the long nights are nature's invitation to rest. Even your qigong or Taijiquan practice can soften—less exertion, more awareness of breath and quiet flow.

Emotionally, early winter encourages reflection rather than striving. Just as trees draw nourishment into their roots, we too can draw energy inward, tending to the stillness within. In this way, rest becomes not idleness but renewal. By aligning with the season's quiet wisdom, we preserve our jīng and keep the inner fire glowing, ready to rise again when spring returns.